


Ternary

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Series: Entangle [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Wing Kink, injuries, round three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron has been waiting, plotting, for another round with his new favorite officer, but an accident might just try to get between him and his prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, as I stated in the first part, this was initially a PWP. However, the writer in me took over and we actually have a bit of plot in this part.
> 
> Also, this is the only part of the series I wanted to add a second chapter to. As I mentioned to a commentor, I felt the story flowed better as individual parts instead of a chaptered story. Call it a writer's whim.
> 
> Please note: Some fan-speculation and freedom on the whole Cybertronian-temperature debate. Going by in-series mentions, I wanted to follow the idea that they can freeze in very low temperatures (despite being space-worthy, whuh??)

Games of the non-violent kind did not appeal to Megatron. There was very little satisfaction to a victory in a competition that offered meager rewards. However, in the recent Earth months he had found a worthwhile and invigorating game with a _handsome_ reward soon to befall him, ironically without either participant initially aware they were contestants. The rules were simple: Watch, wait, plot. Such a game would have been monotonous had the target been any other mech. But this was Starscream, and the game was always going to be in Megatron’s favor. He was the predator, and Starscream the prey.

It was subtle. After their last interface, Starscream had, again, immediately become wary, paranoid even. He had assumed the first time Megatron had wrestled him into the berth was a one-off, an assumption then demolished when he had then been lured back for a second round. Starscream’s clever little mind seemed to recognize the very likely possibility that there would be more, and as a result had attempted to once again limit their interaction onboard the Nemesis. His method was quite effective: Low on energon, the Decepticons had increased their scouting frequencies and their scanning radius, and Starscream had quite quickly stationed himself as the lead position in all aerial parties. He was off ship regularly, and often for long periods of time. Megatron had to commend him for his ploy. However, it still served his twisted sense of pleasure, knowing how he was prompting his Second’s behavior. It amused him; Starscream was so stubborn. He had clearly enjoyed their trysts, but he would go to great lengths to avoid another. Megatron could speculate many causes for this, but the prominent reason he knew: It was about control. Specifically, Megatron’s control over Starscream’s pleasure. The vindictive Seeker would loath himself for his enjoyment of Megatron’s dominance, it would shake his resolve and question his own desires, and he would strive to shun it. He _was_ striving to shun it.

There was so much to analyze about the Seeker’s erratic psyche that a full shift cycle could speed by without Megatron’s notice. He spent far too much time humoring his thoughts of Starscream, picking out intricacies he knew would be spurring his SIC to avoid him. 

He realized he had let himself drift when, on the bridge, Soundwave had to stand before him to obtain his attention.

“An energon reading,” Megatron observed the data on his TIC’s faceplate. A rather large site, too. Starscream and his seeker scouts had at last struck success. The Nemesis was in desperate need. “Excellent, set a course to the location and prepare the drones to beginning mining operations.”

The display on Soundwave’s visor disappeared in acknowledgement, but instead of leaving to fulfil his orders, he stayed. And stared.

Megatron eyed him. “What is it?”

Soundwave cocked his helm.

Megatron caught it for its inquisitive gesture. He smirked slightly. “My lapse in focus is nothing of concern, I was merely…speculating.”

An image of Starscream was pasted across Soundwave’s visor display.

Two patters of emotion pulsed through Megatron. One was mild amusement; Soundwave had obviously noticed the recent behaviors of both officers, nothing surprising considering how astute he was. And the other was annoyance; to himself, to Soundwave, and to Starscream for his unwitting part.

“Hm,” Megatron confirmed with a non-comital noise. “Starscream’s behavior has always been a source of deep thought. His most recent is no less.” He paused, considering what he should say and what Soundwave already knew. “It is nothing of concern.”

The communications officer stared at him a moment longer – a period of suspicious scrutiny – before giving a nod and returning to his console. Megatron turned his optics from the back of his helm to the sight of the clouds passing by through the observation glass. He had not lapsed in focus for a while now; for a good, what, few Earth months? Yes. It was an easy revelation that he realized the best solution to clear his mind. His game was coming to its climax. Quite literally.

The Nemesis arrived at the new site, a remote area on Earth where snow carpeted every surrounding hill and massif. A blizzard had begun to rage, pelting the warship with white weather. The energon readings were well beneath the surface of the terrain.

“Starscream, report,” Megatron opened a communication channel as he saw the Seeker’s formation fly by outside.

“The energon deposit is deep underneath this Pits forsaken precipice,” came the Seeker’s sour reply. He had taken to speaking as curtly as he could when addressing Megatron, as though formality would convey his ire. “We will need to drill to access the cavern.”

“Very good,” Megatron acknowledged. “Return to the ship and activate the drill.”

The Seeker didn’t even respond, he simply cut the comm line. Megatron smirked inwardly; Starscream would be in an even more abrasive mood than usual, he hated this climate. The freezing temperatures plastered ice to his plating, more specifically his wings, and played havoc with his sensors. Earth had much more atmospheric moisture than other planets, and therefore disliked by most fliers by default.

The remainder of Earth’s day was short, thus they attempted to work quickly to take advantage of the natural light. Despite this, access to the cavern was not obtained until well after the sun had shed its last rays. The drill had labored against the solid, compact ground without amply energon to power it, delaying their progress. Fortunately, the entombed crystals provided sufficient light beneath the surface, aiding the mining drones as they brought down their equipment through the Nemesis transport shaft. 

Both surprising and not, Starscream had chosen to oversee the operation from within the mine, and while he was no doubt cursing up his own storm down there, he was ensuring the productivity of the chilled drones did not idle, and so Megatron had no qualms. Of course, the Seeker’s choice led to further musings, such as how he would rather suffer further in hated conditions than risk encounters with Megatron alone – for with so many drones busy in the vast mine there would be less on the ship, and Starscream had done everything in his power to avoid Megatron on his own. He seemed to think company made him safe. Megatron chuckled.

Had he realized Soundwave was by his side he wouldn’t have done so aloud. As it was, he merely glanced expectantly to his Third, who produced a geophysical readout of the mining area, tagging several zones as potentially dangerous cave-in risks. A second image replaced the first, displaying a thermal reading of the drones and equipment. Again, Soundwave repeated the first image.

Megatron understood. “It would hinder our extraction process significantly if those areas collapsed. Arrange support columns to be erected before the natural pillars melt.”

Soundwave’s mask darkened and he gave his usual single nod. A moment later he disappeared to issue Megatron’s commands.

It was as the materials for the structure supports went down the chute that it happened. From Megatron’s observation on the deck overlooking the drop tunnel, he _heard_ it. Almost immediately an emergency alarm blared from the ship’s system.

“Starscream, report,” he barked into his comm. He didn’t receive an answer. “ _Starscream_.” …Nothing. Slag. “Megatron to the mining team, report.”

A bout of silence preceded and then – “Lord Megatron,” came the voice of a drone. “A large section of the cave has collapsed. I cannot assess the damage yet, there is too much debris and dust, but there was a team in that section, Sir. Led by Commander Starscream.”

“Acknowledged,” Megatron growled. If that piece of scrap has gotten himself crushed, Megatron would not be pleased. After all these eons surviving _him_ he was not going to let the Seeker die by any means but his own. “Soundwave, prepare a rescue and retrieval team,” he sent to his TIC. “And ascertain whether or not mining can continue in the other areas meanwhile.” He received an affirmative ping. He closed and opened another channel. “Knockout, there has been a cave-in. Prepare for wounded.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” came the medic’s reply.

A few seconds later he left the transport room, passing the team of drones assigned to their new objective, Breakdown among them. Megatron made his way to the bridge and accessed the scanning controls on the console there. Energon readings had not been exposed, so there was little chance the Autobots would come sniffing around. One small mercy.

Or not. 

A small detail caught his eye. The temperatures were dropping significantly, even for his Decepticons. Those who had been out there a long time might certainly need a trip to medbay, and he didn’t like more soldiers than necessary out of commission for whatever amount of time.

A few breems later, Soundwave informed him that mining could continue only after the erection of support structures. While only so many drones could be assigned to the rescue, the remaining were put to work stabilizing the other sections of the cave so that mining could continue as quickly as possible.

“Good,” Megatron replied. “Inform me when you have found Starscream.” He cut the connection and ignored the rusty concern nagging his spark. If the Seeker had perished, it would be troublesome to replace him. No matter his faults, Starscream possessed a brilliant mind, and while Megatron would never admit that to him, it was irreplaceable to the cause. To him. Starscream kept him sharp, kept him alert, and most recently kept him…something else.

It was some time later, while Megatron was calculating the distribution of the predicted energon gain, that he received the notification from Soundwave. Several tens of vehicons had been pulled alive from the rubble of the collapse, and several tens had been recovered terminated thus far. Due to whatever luck Primus had bestowed Starscream, he had been among the living – although, not among the conscious. Megatron acknowledged and made his way through the dim Nemesis.

Medbay had seen a rather nasty trickle of minor and major injuries for the past shift. Knockout had been kept constantly busy, both him and his temporary assistant. Since Breakdown had been ordered to the mine, Knockout had been assigned a vehicon with basic first aid knowledge, and he had made his initial displeasure known quite clearly. Sometimes Megatron wondered why he put up with the medic’s seemingly unhealthy attachment to Breakdown, since _any_ mech with a brain module could follow instructions – but no, Knockout always insisted on his oaf of a partner. Well, he couldn’t always get his way, no matter how much he whined.

It was the brightest room on the warship, the only one running at full power. Megatron’s optics took a tick to adjust before he swept them across the busy space. Several vehicons had taken seats on the floor out of the way, nursing minor injuries while those with greater damage had been deposited on the medical berths. Knockout was currently running a scanner across the limp form of Starscream, assessing his damage while the assistant drone was dealing with a large, messy injury on another. Higher officers took priority.

“Report,” Megatron ordered as he stepped up to the medical berth. He cast his gaze across the visible damage. Most notable was Starscream’s right wing, which had been snapped almost straight in half. The plating had buckled and dented and many wires and sensors were exposed, coated with energon. Despite this, it was a fairly clean cut. The other injury to catch Megatron’s immediate attention was the partially crushed left leg. Energon spilled from a jagged gape in the inner thigh, pooling down to his pedes, which where both damaged, the left extensively so. The heel strut was mangled and the ankle joint almost destroyed.

“Aside from the visual damage,” Knockout began, consulting his scanning equipment and the monitors he had activated by Starscream’s berth. “He’s lost a fair amount of energon. The most immediate threat is an emergency systems shutdown; he’s been leaking for hours and his core temperature is _far_ beyond acceptable.” He frowned at his readings. “How long has he been out in this climate? It looks like ice has seeped into his protoform. His nanites are _struggling_ to cope with the strain on his systems.”

Megatron glanced at the monitor, though it meant little to him. He flicked his gaze back down as the medical berth reclined to a horizontal position at the medic’s command. Dirty ice had formed on Starscream’s armor plating, too, dusted with grime and scratches and various dents. If the idiot hadn’t felt the prolonged need to steer clear of Megatron he might not be looking so pitiful right now.

Knockout pulled a cabinet trolley of equipment to his side and picked up a clamp, setting to work. “But the damage looks worse than it is, he’ll survive as soon as I repair that main fuel line. You don’t need him online anytime soon, do you, my Liege?”

Megatron turned his optics on Knockout’s questioning faceplate. “No.”

Knockout looked back down, pulling Starscream’s thighs a little wider apart to access the ruptured line. “Good, because I won’t online him until I have that wing repaired, and there are more urgent damages to see to before I do that. The Commander will be a _nightmare_ with that injury.” The medic reached across for another clamp, a corner of his lip plates crinkled up melodramatically. “I have no such wish to endure _Seeker panic_.”

Amused though he was, Megatron stowed away his smirk. “Carry on, Doctor.”

Assured his Second was in no imminent danger, he left the medbay, passing an incoming emergency in the corridor outside. A trail of energon splattered through the Nemesis from the transport chute, glowing in the dark interiors, but Megatron ignored it. He stepped onto the platform and it took him down to the mine, through the raging blizzard whipping at the shield around him. As he descended into the dimly lit mine his sensors alerted him to the low temperature.

“Megatron, Sir,” Breakdown noticed his arrival as he approached the area, dropping the large boulder aside to face his superior. Dust encrusted the blue mech’s frame, and for a brief moment all Megatron could think was of Knockout’s reaction when his partner returned in such a state.

“How many more are unaccounted for?” Megatron asked, surveying the chaotic scene with a cold distance.

“Three vehicons, Sir,” Breakdown answered, glancing at the ones helping to shift a colossal pillar of rock. “They’re alive, we’re almost to them.”

Megatron watched as the drones successfully pivoted the mass away, letting it slowly fall to the ground with a mighty slam, throwing up more dust and dirt particles. The vehicons themselves where encrusted, and as Megatron glanced at them he saw their platings rattle, shivering.

He watched as the last three drones to be salvaged were dragged from their cramped prison and rushed to the transport chute. Breakdown excused himself and left with them, eager to be away from Megatron and probably desperate to return to his partner. The only noise remaining was the sound of the support structures being constructed in other parts of the mine.

Megatron recalled all the remaining drones and ordered the operations to begin with the Earth day, when the temperatures had risen to more acceptable levels. He was soon back aboard the Nemesis with Soundwave at his side, reading the recent incident report. He growled quietly; their hunt for energon was not supposed to deplete his army. Curse this planet and its unpredictable geography.

The blizzard continued to batter against the warship all through the night, dying off some time shortly after the weak sun had begun to rise over the white expanse. Most on board had taken to recharging, whether they needed it or not. It conserved energy in cold climates while there was nothing to do but wait until mining could continue.

Megatron’s systems rebooted a fraction slower than normal, but he was up and draining his energon cube a few moments later. Like many recent awakenings, he received a brief flash of memories from the sight of his own berth, warming his circuits pleasantly. He had planned to end his little watch and wait game, but it seemed yesterday’s incident had delayed him his prize.

He arrived to the bridge a full breem before Soundwave, a rare occurrence, but it seemed his Third had already started his shift regardless, greeting Megatron with a predicted quota for the mining operation based on the surviving miners, and the forecasted temperatures, of which were lower than yesterday and would slow down the drones. 

“This planet seems determined to delay our operations,” Megatron spoke gravelly into the silence. He handed the datapad back to his Third, deciding he had little else left to attend. “I must pay Knockout a visit. Continue, Soundwave.”

Megatron’s journey back through the Nemesis was passed with various thoughts to entertain him, mostly involving a certain Seeker. He found himself planning to improve future mining operations so situations such as this could not happen again. Drones were not an endless supply, and his choice of high officers was not in abundance. He could ill afford to risk a similar cave-in.

“Lord Megatron,” Breakdown greeted with a handful of stained tools, the first to look his way in a room still inhabited with patients. He glanced across at Knockout, directing Megatron’s attention to the medic. On the way over, his optics caught the sight of Starscream still laid out on a berth, support cables attached to the medical ports on his frame. Nearby, the assistant drone saluted respectfully before continuing his clean up.

“Knockout,” Megatron walked over to where the red grounder was currently leaning on an occupied berth, tipping back a cube of energon. “Injury report.”

Knockout looked _tired_. He lowered the empty cube and looked at Megatron through dim optics and a less than lackluster faceplate. He had obviously caught very little, if any, recharge. His finish was spotted with splashes of energon, oil and dirt, and the entire medbay was far from his usual immaculate order.

“We’ve lost thirty nine drones,” the medic replied dully, standing straight to face the warlord fully. “Twenty one more will be out of commission until their welds have set. I have confined them to their barracks.” He swept his haggard optics across the patients on the berths. “They’ll be in working order within a week.”

“And Starscream?”

Knockout looked back at Megatron. “I have dealt with his serious injuries, but I have yet to work on his surface damage –” his shoulders sagged noticeably “– and his _wing_. That will require my full concentration and a lot of time. He won’t be operational for many breems, I’m afraid, My Lord.”

He found no fault in Knockout’s work, or his priorities for the past cycle, but still, Megatron growled under his intake, annoyed by the entire situation. The medic flinched at his reaction.

“Very well,” Megatron responded. “When you have finished all repairs I want a report submitted to Soundwave.” Since Starscream was unfit to receive them, it fell on his Third in Command, and although Megatron disliked redirecting additional burdens to Soundwave’s already hefty work load, it was ideal in the circumstances.

As Knockout gave a confirming reply, Megatron turned and left. He felt a faint surge of frustration pulse through his circuits, and was momentarily confused as to where it was directed. During the entire day shift following, he felt it prickle his awareness several times, and it wasn’t until he retired from the bridge to the mess hall did he realize what it was: Sexual frustration.

He found himself angry, angry with his own fragged up processor and the events that had delayed his attempt to alleviate it. But overall, he was angry that his systems had presented him with this affliction, minor though it was. Starscream was certainly getting under his plates, the slagger. But he had brought it upon himself by gearing up his expectations – which were then thwarted by a damn cave-in of all things.

The mess hall was almost empty save for a few drones. Megatron retrieved a cube of much needed energon and was about to sit and read the latest status update on the mining operation when he was commed by Knockout, informing him Starscream was online and the doctor was about to _offline_. So melodramatic. Those two certainly shared a common trait. Megatron tossed his empty cube into the recycle receptacle and headed back to medbay, once again.

It was strange to hear silence when entering a location in which he knew Starscream was operational. He expected complaining, angry hissing, or his usual volley of insults. But it was actually quiet. Megatron stepped from the closing doors and swung his gaze to the berth, just to affirm his SIC was indeed awake. His expression must have been telling.

“Yes, strange isn’t it,” Knockout purred satirically, his smirk not quite reaching his tone. His optics drooped with exhaustion as he walked jauntily over to Megatron by the Seeker’s berth, leaving Breakdown to his cleaning of the empty slabs. “Enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

“Oh, shut up, Knockout,” Starscream growled lethargically. He winced in the direction of his damaged wing, looking as listless as Knockout. A couple of sensor cables still attached to his chassis swayed with his movement.

“I would say the same, but I don’t expect _miracles_ ,” the doctor quickly, if not unprofessionally, shot back.

“Enough,” Megatron ordered as Starscream opened his mouth to retort. “Report.”

Knockout shifted his weight onto one leg. “Like the drones, Starscream will be out of commission for _at least_ – ” He shot a withering look at the Seeker “ – a week. No strenuous activity, no running around on those heel struts, and _no_ flying. His –”

Starscream looked as aghast as possible for a mech without vitality. He clenched a fist aggressively, cables shaking with his ire. “I am _much_ more durable than the _drones_! I don’t need your substandard opinion to tell me my limits! I –”

“ _Starscream_ ,” Megatron warned, effectively shutting him up. “In this instance the doctor outranks you, and you will _follow_ his instructions. I have no need for a partially-functional officer, especially one that cannot fly or even walk.”

Judging by the recoil, that one stung. Starscream gaped almost wounded-like at him.

“If you try anything before the welds have done their job, you’ll only aggravate them and push your recovery time further,” Knockout added, pushing a few buttons on the screen by the berth. “And perhaps next time I won’t be so generous with my wielding work.”

Starscream growled petulantly, if not somewhat tiredly. Astonishingly, he said nothing and sagged visibly as whatever energy he had seemed to deplete.

Noticing, Knockout folded his arms and stared disparagingly at him. “Yes, and did I mention due to your own stupidity your internals are running slow? That’s what happens when your pass your core temperature thresholds. Your protoform was compromised and your inner platings were damaged, they’ll take time to repair. Your systems are struggling to return your levels to normal. You’ll be sluggish for a while.”

“Terrific,” Starscream spat, lying back down on the berth. “I suppose it’s too much to hope your meager work on my wing will be painless throughout recovery.”

Knockout rolled his optics, irritation clear in his expression and stance. “If only your lip plates had frozen instead of your armor.” He motioned to Breakdown, who lumbered over with a handful of energon cubes in his hands, setting them down on the trolley by the berth. “Medical grade for your next four rations,” Knockout said, turning a firm gaze on Starscream. “No complaints, I don’t care how much you whine.” Before another argument could ensue, he then turned to Megatron. “If I may, permission to finally recharge for a cycle or five?”

“Granted,” Megatron dismissed easily. Knockout may be a vanity-driven piece of slag, but he had earned himself a break.

The doctor looked relieved, shuffling his way over to where Breakdown now awaited him at the door. Megatron noticed with a touch of amusement that a small patch on the blue mech’s armor had been cleaned of dust, as though someone had started but had been unable to finish. What did the Humans call it? Obsessive compulsive disorder?

The sound of the door signaled their exit, and quite suddenly everything was still and quiet. Megatron and Starscream were alone. 

Something devious and opportunistic conspired within the warlord, and a smirk etched its way onto his lip plates. He cast his gaze across his SIC’s scratched and marred frame, considering just what definition ‘strenuous activity’ could be interpreted as.

It seemed despite Starscream’s drowsy functions, his processor was still fairly sharp. It took a few seconds for his mind to register the sound of the door closing, and then realization hit him. His optics opened wider, and he glanced quickly to where he knew Breakdown had last stood. There was, of course, no one there. No one but Megatron.

“I, er, suppose I should update myself on recent reports,” Starscream began hastily, sitting up and pulling the cables from his chassis. He swung his newly repaired legs off the berth and hopped down to the floor, stumbling and hissing as they took his weight. He clung to the berth until his strength had accumulated enough to straighten him up. It looked like an arduous task.

Megatron stepped close to him, looming over his smaller frame with his hands clasped deceivingly casual behind his back. “But I have hardly seen you these past many orns,” he said with mocking cordiality, so fake it make Starscream freeze. “It is almost as though you have been… _avoiding_ me.” His smirk widened.

The Seeker stared and then scoffed. “I have been _busy_ bringing order to the _shambles_ you seem content to let our faction parade as.”

Megatron narrowed his eyes warningly. 

Starscream paused, realizing his usual attitude was rearing. “That is to say, I have been diligently scanning for energon, among other duties.” He edged away from the support of the berth, fully intending to head for the door. “Which I must return to –”

As he made towards the door, Megatron deftly stepped in front of him, towering over him. Starscream’s wings began to drop – an action that provoked a wince of pain and their descent halted.

“You are not on duty until I say you are,” Megatron told him, the corner of his lip twisting up as he began to back Starscream to the berth. He planted his servos on the flat surface either side of the Seeker, trapping him between it and his larger bulk. The wide-optics staring back sent a thrill through Megatron’s circuits. An injured Seeker was not the vigorous interface he’d had in mind, but Starscream was never a meek prey in whatever condition. There was a certain appeal to a wounded Seeker, and no matter how weak, if he truly did not want Megatron’s advances he would make it known. There was no mistake about that.

Starscream was strangely wordless as he gaped, lip plates parted ready for when he found them again. Megatron could almost see the memories of their last encounters playing through his processor.

Without waiting for any verbal reply, he slid his servos around the Seeker’s waist. Surprise hit him: Starscream was _cold_. As his SIC stiffened at his touch and warmth, Megatron realized the full extent of Starscream’s temperature disorder. It was clear now why his nanites and systems were so slow to bring his core back to its normal level.

“You were foolish to stay out there so long,” Megatron growled quietly, tightening his grip.

Starscream glared at him, gripping the edge of the slab behind. “It’s _your_ fault. Your molesting drove me to –”

“Do not place blame on me, Starscream,” Megatron cut across firmly. “You were not driven from my proximity because of me, you were fleeing from your own denial.” Starscream spluttered, but the gladiator continued. “You cannot admit to yourself, so like everything else, you try to ignore your issues and fabricate lies instead.”

Starscream stuttered indignantly. “Implying _I_ have issues when it is _your_ depraved urges that keep assaulting me is a blatant stab of hypocrisy!”

Megatron smirked again and leaned close. “Ah, but _I_ am not denying anything, nor am I trying to delude myself.”

The Seeker’s mouth opened but his words stalled once more. Megatron took the opportunity to dip his thumbs into the seams of Starscream’s navel plating and squeeze his servos. Caught unawares, Starscream’s spine bowed into the presses and a bleat of air escaped his intake.

Megatron lowered his face near to Starscream’s audial. “Time to _warm_ you up.”

With that, he hefted the Seeker back onto the berth, crawling atop him almost immediately. True to Starscream’s nature, he hutched back sluggishly, still resisting despite the clear stirrings permeating his EM field. It was an impulse, a coding that seemed too ingrained for him to ignore. Maybe he didn’t want to ignore it; Starscream was stubborn enough to make Megatron work for it, and stubborn enough to delay his own inevitable surrender.

“This is medbay!” He finally hissed, hauling himself to the end of the berth with some effort. “Someone could walk in –”

“Unlikely,” Megatron countered, running his palms brashly along Starscream’s cold legs, eager to touch and press and just a little ashamed he was already aroused. “They know _you’re_ in here.”

Starscream’s lip plates fell open angrily. “I’m _injured_ for Primus’ sake!”

“Then I suggest you do not struggle,” Megatron replied easily, finding it much too entertaining to tease him.

The Seeker looked outright infuriated, but a noise jumped from his vocalizer as Megatron slid his servos beneath the Seeker’s aft, lifted him from the berth and dragged him underneath. Starscream stared up at Megatron’s self-satisfied leer, indecision, indignation and apprehension fighting for prominence in his optics. A stab of primal excitement stormed through the warlord’s lines. He turned his gaze down the length of Starscream’s frame and trailed a servo after it, running his touch along the smaller chassis. It was faintly unnerving how cold his metal was, how unnatural it felt. Megatron’s fingers brushed over the freshly sealed fuel line in the Seeker’s inner thigh, feeling out the imperceptible rupture before deeming Knockout’s work flawless and shifting his servos higher, squeezing at the crook of the Seeker’s thigh joint.

Starscream grunted breathily, thigh tensing, fists balled loosely by his side. “You would risk indiscretion in your haste to defile me?” He bit back a sound as that teasing thumb began to knead at the juncture of his groin. His attempt to silence himself failed as a groan bubbled from his vocalizer, muffled but no less heard through his gritted denta. His traitorous hips began to roll into the contact.

“Yes,” Megatron whispered, smirking.

A rather pleasing reaction to his voice shook through Starscream’s frame, closing his optics and igniting a spike of pleasure in his field.

“S-so you can flaunt your _dominance_ of me? Show me off as your _trophy_?” Starscream sneered in distain and loathing, although the effect was largely lost. “I am not your – your – _aah_!” He lost this train of words as Megatron’s wicked thumb pressed firmly at his valve panel and began stroking, brushing insistent and worryingly skillful caresses along all the right places, following his rocking hips expertly. Their EM fields were saturated with lust, grazing the edges of one another.

“Yes, you are.”

Starscream’s spine lowered back to the berth even as his pelvic array continued to rock, his processor foggy with sensations and recovery. “W-what?”

Megatron was silent. He twisted his servo so he could lavish all digits along his Second’s sensitive panel, wringing a moan from his lethargic vocalizer as he watched Starscream’s face with intimidating focus. The Seeker caught his optics, momentarily immobilized by the intensity he found there. Even when Megatron’s servo ceased its teasing, and he lowered his own pelvic plating between Starscream’s thighs, their ocular connection remained locked. A gentle grind started, igniting tame flares of pleasure. But Megatron found himself more focused on the revealing qualities flickering through the Seeker’s optics, lost in the throng of conflictions. He was sorely exposed, unwittingly disclosing himself, presumably an effect of his current condition, but the apparent authenticity there made Megatron stare. Starscream was never apt at the art of concealment under duress, but never did he lower his defense so. Warring emotions fought beneath his exterior, he clearly could not acknowledge what he wanted. Be it to submission to Megatron’s body, to his own vehemently denied admissions, or rebellion from the unfair advantage his master had employed, the resistance he was hardwired to follow. It was actually quite fascinating how confused Megatron had made him. He always did enjoy sowing chaos.

A restless servo found its way back across the jet’s cool armor, mapping untreated dents and lacerations on its slow journey along waist and chest. The slow-building sensory manipulation brought a somnolent groan from Starscream’s intake, and his own hips were soon rocking into Megatron’s, meeting his teasing pace with his own. His talons had found purchase in the recesses of Megatron’s collar plating, but the gladiator couldn’t tell if he was attempting to pull him closer or push him away.

As Megatron’s servo inched along Starscream’s left wing, a quiet but sharper moan fled from the frame beneath him. In anticipation of further reactions, Megatron’s fans clicked on quietly first, heated with vivid memories. He couldn’t be too shamed by this, considering Starscream’s temperature was still far too low for his fans to warrant activation. But that would soon change. With intimate familiarity, Megatron pushed his fingers into the wing’s joint, stroking out shivers of pleasure and eliciting little grunts of air. He traced delicate internal edges with the tip of his claw, earning a delightfully lascivious moan, spine snapping into an arch. Their plating bumped together, but almost simultaneously Starscream hissed in pain. His action had pressed his wings into the berth hard, specifically his damaged one. The weld was still sore and fresh, sensors pinging him oversensitive data. He shifted subtly to release contact with the slab, optics semi-closed and hips still.

Megatron waited patiently for the grimace to disappear. He was compensated with a temperate glare, to which he merely smirked, though the expected cutting retort didn’t come. Megatron put it down to his condition dampening his caustic inclinations.

Pausing himself, the gladiator realized in his position Starscream would be susceptible to further painful bumps. Hm, he did plan to do things differently this time around…

“Up,” he commanded, sliding an arm underneath the Seeker’s slim form as he rose to his knees. He lifted him easily, switching their positions to seat himself on the berth with Starscream’s lighter weight straddling his lap. He leaned back on one palm and steadied a scandalous Seeker with the other, fingers wrapped securely around his waist. The prick of uncertain talons braced against his chest.

“Do you take _joy_ manhandling me?” Starscream demanded, glowering down unsurely from his new position.

Megatron smirked, glad his Second’s scathing rejoinders had not deserted him altogether. He rotated his hips up into the cool frame.

Starscream stiffened. Their point of contact was now solidly between his legs, and as the gladiator’s motions continued into a slow, gratifying tempo, the friction was centered almost exclusively to his valve panel. His spine struts curved as pleasures began to unfurl throughout him, and after a few seconds of rigid inertia his resolve crumbled against the steady bliss and his hips soon matched the rhythm.

It was while he was watching, greedily absorbing the sight before him, that Megatron realized the added treat this position presented. As Starscream grinded exquisitely into his own interface panel, the reflection of his pleasures began to reveal themselves in the expressive expanse of his wings. With every buck of the Seeker’s hips, his wings rose and fell in graceful, quick patterns. Determined to bait more from them, Megatron snaked his servo around to the left one and dug his claw tips into the seams, assaulting the sensitivity.

“ _Aaah_ ,” Starscream groaned, throwing his helm back as his talons pinched at Megatron’s chassis. His right wing dipped sharply while his other flared wide into Megatron’s grip, a peculiar, asymmetrical reaction he had never witnessed before. It was oddly charming.

Encouraged, Megatron pressed down the wing’s bottom edge and swirled his fingers over to the outer panel, grazing delicately at the joint into Starscream’s engine casing. The Seeker’s shoulder armor hunched and his frame leaned back into the touch, seeking more as an appreciative hum vibrated from his vocalizer. The sound rocketed straight through Megatron’s increasingly heated frame, and his spike twitched in response. Now that was interesting… Eager for more, he pursued this new sensor-rich zone, wringing more gasps and gravelly moans until his fans had switched up to a higher setting and he was aching inside his interface panel.

Starscream’s temperature was starting to rise noticeably. His armor was no longer cold, and after Megatron’s fingers had migrated to fondle his small wing fins, his cooling fans finally clicked on. With a rush of triumph, Megatron thrust his pelvic array up hard, jerking his Second, all wings bouncing.

Starscream hiccupped loudly, a jarring noise that caught him unaware. He bit his denta and closed his optics, no doubt burning with redundant shame. They flew back open at the firm touch of Megatron’s relocated fingers sliding over his valve panel, retracing their earlier circles. It was all the coaxing needed, for his panel slid open almost immediately, burning need claiming his actions. 

Megatron grinned faintly, needing no more approval. He shifted his own position, forcing Starscream to lean back against his knees and open out his thighs for better access. Megatron set his gaze on the Seeker’s optics before stroking his finger across the wet valve. Starscream shuddered, having braced himself, steeling his reactions. That wouldn’t do. Megatron teased the tip of his digit relentlessly as he passed across the delicate mesh again and again. Lubricant coated his claws, evidence of Starscream’s heightened arousal, piquing his own to higher levels, but still the Seeker refused to give anything more than muffled, bitten moans. Megatron wanted more. He would _get_ more. He angled the tip of his claw carefully and drew it slowly along the inner rim, just shy of penetration.

Starscream’s thighs tightened and a high, strained whine fled his vocalizer. His fans whirred up a pace, betraying his attempts to be a stubborn piece of slag. His expression was of one concentrating so hard it was almost comical.

Without warning Megatron plunged his finger into the Seeker’s valve as deep as it would go. Starscream wailed. _Victory_. Long talons scrabbled for a handhold on Megatron’s knees as the finger wriggled ruthlessly, spine bending, chin stretching back, wings jerking to attention behind him. The sight would fuel many perverse fantasies to come. The finger paused, measuring the abnormal internal temperature as Starscream was allowed a brief reprieve. Very brief. Megatron curled the tip of his digit, finding those nodes he knew would push the Seeker to the brink and warm him up quickly. An undignified squeal was wrenched from his vocalizer and he jerked, pushing up into Megatron’s knees to alleviate the intensity. Megatron’s finger followed, tormenting him with rapid, merciless pleasures.

“Mega – Megatron,” Starscream wheezed, clutching at the thick arm. 

The warlord slid a second digit in, pumping both to a cruel, quick pace. His SIC cried out loudly and, despite his struggles, his hips twitched responsively, wings cuffing Megatron’s knees as they swung together and apart in wide successions. Coarse sounds fled from his gaping intake. Megatron’s engine revved and his fans roared higher. Well worth the waiting game.

He took pity after a few moments, slowing his ministrations to gentle strokes along the inner walls, pressing at neglected nodes to earn himself a hoarse moan. His third finger pushed carefully into the tight channel, stretching it slowly to the sound of Starscream’s altered sighs. Lubricant dripped down his servo, firing up the heat in Megatron’s circuits to an inferno. The first crackle of charge among their metals sparkled in the air, and both of their armors had taken on shimmers of condensation. Starscream’s EM field was so thick with lust Megatron felt smothered by it.

The gladiator was gentle as he scissored his fingers, mindful of how long it had been, of how the past incident could have affected Starscream’s interiors. It took longer to loosen him, and longer to contain his own burning desires. He had again underestimated how easily Starscream could threaten his self-restraint.

“ _Nnnh_ ,” the flyer moaned, a sound of desperate want. He shifted and ground his hips on Megatron’s fingers, demanding more. _Craving_ more. For a mech who needed considerable preparation, his ardor certainty didn’t need inducement. In a random, fleeting second Megatron wondered what a fully eager Starscream was like; a fully seductive, horny, lecherous Seeker. The thought sent a stab of twisting desire down his internals.

He gave his fingers a last wriggle, inciting another groan. His own spike was swelling in its casing, begging for release, but he couldn’t resist teasing Starscream one last time. With a shift, Megatron hutched his knees higher, lurching the jet onto his chest with a startled sound. Before he could recover, those fingers were sliding over his aft and straight back into his considerably warmer valve with a wet noise. The Seeker arched into the warlord’s chest and moaned, sharp talons digging into his chest plating. Megatron watched his expression avidly, finding a new kind of enjoyment in his SIC’s tantalizing position. He eyed the slickened cables at the Seeker’s neck inches from his faceplates and battled to the urge to _bite_ them, to make new marks.

Starscream gave a frustrated huff as Megatron worked his fingers back out, dropping his helm onto his partner’s shoulder as he gripped tighter. He was close, so with a last stroke over the Seeker’s entrance, Megatron removed his servo entirely. In the space that followed he released his spike housing and felt a wash of relief as his swollen length was freed, grazing against Starscream’s thoroughly lubricated valve. The Seeker stiffened.

“You like control, Starscream?” Megatron rumbled huskily into the mech’s audial. He took his weight from his other servo and laid himself back on the berth fully, smirking up at his Second. “Then control your own descent…”

At the implication, Starscream’s lust-addled expression bristled, but his words deserted him yet again. The warring decisions running across his faceplate were as entertaining to watch as they were clear to see. Starscream couldn’t refuse, he _wanted_ their joining – and that admission would just be tearing him up. He detested needing Megatron for anything, and it was Megatron who had _gotten_ him in this state. The outright infuriation blossomed across his expression.

As incentive for him to hurry, Megatron pushed his hips up, rubbing his aching spike against the smaller mech’s aft. Starscream bowed into it before he could control himself.

“I hate you,” he rasped. Whatever venom he had tried to inject into his words failed under the lilt of thick overcharge.

A deep chuckle vibrated from Megatron’s chest. “That, dear Starscream, is what makes this so good…”

Starscream stared at him a moment longer before the gladiator’s servos squeezed at his waist and shifted his hips yet again. The Seeker’s optics shuttered at the contact and his burning desires finally won him over. Refusing to meet Megatron’s gaze, he braced his palms against the broad torso and tilted his pelvic array back, arms shaking. Megatron guided him just so, aiding his angle and supporting his weight until _finally_ the tip of his spike bumped against the slick texture of mesh. Starscream’s lip plates pressed together and he closed his optics as he began to lower himself onto the turgid length, slowly and carefully. As each ridge of his spike slipped inside, the urge to ram the jet down gave Megatron a battle of his own, one in which he _barely_ won. The heat and tightness was new all over again as though he hadn’t experienced this twice already, and as Starscream sank tentatively along his impressive spike, he wondered just why he had waited so long.

When Starscream reached his hilt, sat snugly upon Megatron’s hips, a stray, throaty growl escaped the gladiator, consumed by the pressure around him. The Seeker’s wings had surged together behind him, erect and high as he adjusted to the intrusion within him. Megatron wanted to run his servos all over possessively. _Mine_. Such a primitive thought, but one he didn’t contest with. The notion of Starscream as _his_ was the same consensus as with the Deceptacon army. They _all_ belonged to him. But _this_ , this act of raw, basic need between Starscream and he, it was his alone. He didn’t care what the rest of his minions did to each other, but he had decided that the Seeker was exclusive to _him_. Only Megatron could kill him, and only Megatron could frag him.

A hybrid sound escaped Starscream’s vocalizer, something of a sigh and a whine. It generated barbs of pleasure through Megatron’s overcharged frame and he gripped those slim hips harder, determined not to lose his self-control. Starscream made it very easy to want to dominate him, and the fact that it was completely unintentional made it even more enticing. He registered Starscream’s trembling wings a moment before the Seeker gave an experimental nudge. Megatron bit back a hiss of pleasure as his length was stirred. As though the sound had awakened him, Starscream steadied his knees and rotated his hips, eliciting a groan from them both. Megatron watched as the Seeker slowly began to rock continuously, testing out his position, angling his own frame to catch his interior nodes. Megatron was so deep he was pressing against the very apex of Starscream’s valve, his contours tracing against the walls with every motion. The Seeker moaned after a particular buck, stilling himself to regaining whatever strength he had momentarily lost. His languid movements were driving Megatron insane, and somewhere in his hazy processor Starscream probably knew it. After a few more leisurely sways, the gladiator snapped.

Gripping Starscream’s waist, Megatron lifted the Seeker effortlessly and _thrust_ hard.

“ _Nnhh_!”

He never realized the strength in Starscream’s thighs until they constricted around him, so tightly he wondered if his waist had been contracted by a few inches. Multiple buds of pain flashed across his sensor net, which he would later realize were all ten sharp talons latching into his chest plate. But the sight above him drove everything from his processor – the sight of Starscream clinging to his sanity with an expression of shocked euphoria. If possible, his wings had hitched higher behind him, rising almost vertical to his spine. Megatron didn’t need to guess any Seeker wing language to know how much he had enjoyed _that_.

He only realized he had been staring in a sexed stupor when, to his perverse surprise, Starscream whined at his lack of cooperation and grinded their plating together, demanding more in the only way he currently could. Megatron grinned devilishly and gladly complied. He repeated his actions, piecing the medbay air with the resulting cry and a renewed series of delightful pains. Megatron felt his fans roar in their attempts to lessen the fire raging through him, but it would only scorch brighter, inflamed by the sight above him. In their ensuring tempo of heated rushes, the pleasure roiling through Megatron began to climb towards his inevitable summit with incredible speed. It surely did not help that he was drowning in the wild, unrestrained aura of Starscream’s field. It surprised him just how raw the mech’s interface drive was. It was one thing to hear rumor, it was another to experience the wave of passion rolling off a Seeker. Especially one who was still recovering. 

With great inner strength Megatron slowed his thrusts and _watched_. Primus, Starscream was riding him with abandon. His wings bounced with every motion, something that struck a deeply erotic cord within Megatron’s systems. He swirled his servos over the Seeker’s jumping thighs and gripped his hips again, renewing his own hard pace. Starscream’s responding keen broke from his vocalizer, interspaced with needy pants. Overcharge laced the very air between them, crackling along their metals, signaling the incredible build up. Unbearable heat flayed their circuits, twisting into an unavoidable pressure.

Megatron felt his overload hurtle through him– a second before Starscream’s. His optics offlined as the intensity rampaged through his systems like a tank on speed, dimly aware he was gripping the Seeker so hard he felt warm liquid seep onto his fingertips. He came hard inside Starscream’s tremoring frame, clenching his hips as he felt tightness clamp down around him, and a rush of transfluid as his partner cried out his own release. It was a delightfully erogenous sound to his audials.

When his processor had cleared, he felt the trembling, weakly grip of thighs either side of his chassis loosen, and the twitch of Starscream’s valve around his oversensitive spike. His entire frame was bordering on soreness, but the effects of his post overload kept his stupor pleasant. He bucked his hips tiredly, working out the vestiges of his release while he had the vitality to do so: his energy had been expelled with his ejaculation. 

Starscream mewled at the nudging, wings sagging exhaustively, helm drooping, optics offline. He looked to be skimming on the edges of recharge, but his EM field was buzzing with unmistakable contentment. He hadn’t yet the energy to conceal it.

Megatron surveyed their damage, noting with a touch of pride how, even in his weakened state Starscream had still managed to carve up his chest plate, and he in turn had pierced the glass of Starscream’s cockpit with two thumb punctures. Let it not be said their interfacing was without damage.

“Falling into recharge already, Starscream?” Megatron teased, smirking at the view above him with satisfaction. His fans ventilated loudly and his energy began to trickle back steadily, thanks to the energon he had consumed before. It was a pity his berth-partner wasn’t up for round two, because _he_ certainly would be very soon.

Expecting a retort, an insult of some kind or a tired sneer, Megatron was surprised when all he received was an extremely fatigued glance. Starscream’s optics were dim, his lips plates parted, and his wings had all but fallen behind him. A tug of concern pulled at Megatron’s processor, something was wrong. As his own fans decreased a setting, the air was still filled with the overworked roar of Starscream’s. His frame was still burning hot.

Frowning, Megatron sat up, supporting Starscream’s limp frame as he maneuvered him to lie back on the slab, wings splaying out on the berth without a sign of pain. The warlord pulled his spike carefully from the furnace of the Seeker, ignoring the spill of their transfluids. Starscream was unnervingly docile beneath his treatment.

“Starscream,” Megatron called, tone moderate. He pressed his palm to the Seeker’s chest plate. His spark was spinning strikingly fast. 

“Hot,” Starscream mumbled a reply, an edge of irritation in his tone. At least he was lucid.

Trying not to snipe at the obvious, Megatron reached for one of the medical grade energon cubes Knockout had prescribed. He tore the lid from a single unit, picked up Starscream’s servo and pushed it into his long fingers.

“Drink,” he ordered, holding the Seeker’s wrist steady.

Starscream did nothing.

Megatron nearly groaned in annoyance. Were all Seeker’s so pathetic? With a grudging reluctance, the gladiator slid one servo beneath his Second’s thruster and inclined his lifeless frame, bringing the other wrapped around Starscream’s own to his intake. The energon drained away slowly as it was consumed, despite the wrinkled sneer of distaste; medical grade was not the most flavorful of energons.

When the cube was empty it was tossed back onto the trolley where it bounced off to the floor with a clatter. Megatron sat back on his heels and listened, watching. Starscream’s fans were not calming down despite the cool energon; they were not cooling him effectively. Megatron should have possessed the foresight to realize there would be repercussions to interfacing with a mech in Starscream’s condition. His circuits and platings had heated too quickly, and now his systems were desperately trying to regain control of the chaos Megatron had just fragged into them. Unfortunately, they, too, were affected by the Seeker’s irregular temperature and couldn’t reassert normality. Starscream needed external aid to help cool him off.

Putting himself away, codpiece latching back into place, Megatron stepped off the berth and with an ungracious motion slung the sedated Seeker over his shoulder.

“Uugh,” Starscream groaned miserably from his back, unable to summon anything vicious. “I hate you…”

“Cover yourself up,” Megatron told him, tapping the edge of his SIC’s valve panel; it was coated with their transfluid. Starscream’s hips jerked and the panel slid shut.

“I _really_ hate you…”

Megatron ignored him, gathered the other medical cubes, and stormed to the door.

“No, no,” Starscream complained, noticing their direction. “I’m not letting you… lug me through the Nemesis.”

“You have little choice,” the gladiator replied, amused. Perhaps he was still floating on the post-overload coding, but he found enjoyment in the jet’s predicament.

“ _No_ , Primus damn you… I’m covered in your _filth_ …” His struggles were pitiful. “Put me down – I can’t let anyone see me in this state…”

Megatron ignored him, striding through the medbay doors and into the corridor. It was the end of the solar cycle shift, very few mechs would be roaming the ship, if any. To Megatron’s surprise, Starscream didn’t utter another sound as he walked through the Nemesis, most likely due to the fact that what energy he had conjured seemed completely exhausted; Megatron was certain he felt the exact moment when Starscream slid into recharge. If he were a mech of lower standards he would probably cop a grope.

He reached his quarters and his door opened to his code input, glancing at his Second’s obscenely ravished backside and pushing back the rush of lust. This wasn’t exactly the way he had envisioned luring Starscream back into his room, especially not unconscious, but the reaction to his newest location would surely be entertaining. Megatron’s door closed behind him as he sent the command for his lighting, crossing to his wash rack as the levels adjusted to an appropriate dimness. He tossed the medical cubes onto his desk before stepping into the other chamber. Starscream’s laborious fans churned the quiet air until the rush of the solvent obscured them. Megatron turned down the temperature, testing the coolness.

With care, he lowered the overheated Seeker from his shoulder into the water spray. Almost immediately Starscream roused from recharge, hazy optics glancing around whilst his helm lulled against Megatron’s chest. His processor recognized the solvent pouring from the faucet heads.

“Feels good,” he mumbled.

Megatron was mildly concerned by the lack of derogative comments, perhaps the heat had fried his personality subroutines, but this languid Starscream was oddly pleasing in a strange way. It was a damn rare sight, in any case. 

In the following few minutes, he supported a steadily awakening Seeker as the cool solvent permeated his platings, slowly bringing his temperature down. Using solutions, Megatron set about cleaning the mixture of their overloads from both his and Starscream’s frames, seating them on the floor with a rare sense of tranquility. He didn’t know why he didn’t just let the lazy slagger clean himself, let him struggle, because it certainly wasn’t his obligation to do it. And yet, he couldn’t deny some tiny hint of gratification from his ministrations. It was possibly just the novelty, but he would remember the feeling it brought him, the throbs of possessiveness as he watched his own servo roaming over the smaller frame.

“Watch those _servos_ ,” Starscream huffed, brighter optic’ed and clearer minded, after a particularly bold stroke took Megatron’s palm almost to his interface panel. “You better not start anything _else_.”

Megatron merely smirked, which only irritated the Seeker. It seemed the medical grade energon had boosted Starscream’s energy levels a touch and the cool solvent had cleared his processor. But his comment picked at Megatron’s processor; had the Seeker not iterated a near identical warning the last time? Curious…

“It’s your fault I’m in this predicament.”

Megatron lowered his scarred face plate to his SIC’s audial. “And I regret nothing,” he rumbled promiscuously. He slid his wayward servo back up the inside of a thigh and cupped the Seeker’s entire aft firmly. Starscream’s hitched gasp only served to heat his own circuits, even under the flow of the solvent. A stray flare of arousal brushed Megatron’s EM field, and he grinned inwardly.

“You’re _insatiable_ ,” Starscream grit, intended as an insult but taken as a compliment. His servos curled into loose fists against his master’s chest but did nothing to stop the gladiator’s.

“Seems I am not the only one,” Megatron replied throatily, enjoying the second spike of excitement in reaction to his tone. He drummed his fingers teasingly.

“Y-you’re that immoral you resort to taking advantage of my condition?” The flyer stuttered, frame stiffening at the touches. There was a strange element to his expression Megatron couldn’t quite read.

Maybe it was the soothing effect of the solvent, maybe it was the feel-good coding still addling his processor, but Megatron couldn’t resist teasing. “Of course not,” he said with a low, deep lilt, and then, dropping his voice to a near-whisper, added, “but I need to check your temperature somehow…”

Starscream shuddered at his tone before, a moment later, the insinuation settled into his processor. An unrestrained burst of lust and humiliation caught the edges of Megatron’s field, and Starscream shoved at the bigger mech in outrage, pushing himself away with a glare – though to whom the majority of his anger was aimed at was unclear. His actions brought him to sag onto his elbow weakly.

“Relax,” Megatron told him, “I would not stoop so low.”

“You have _already_ stooped that low,” the Seeker growled. His higher wing flicked a sheet of solvent from it, a subconscious effort.

“That is a matter of opinion.”

Starscream huffed, but he said nothing else, eyeing the gladiator with a mix of reactions that, again, he seemed unable to screen. With a blaze of intrigue, Megatron caught the unmistakable glimmer of desire as Starscream’s optics flickered across the gladiator’s frame. Aha, so it seemed the self-proclaimed ‘victim’ couldn’t hide his own interest – which was quite impressive considering Starscream had the current energy capacity of a rotary buffer.

He must have caught the watchful expression on Megatron’s face plate, for his own converted into a controlled glare behind the waterfall of solvent, and he looked away. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Intrigued, Megatron continued to stare. “Like what?” He baited in a low baritone.

Starscream sent an uneasy glance back in his direction, his demeanor morphing into what Megatron could only describe as apprehension, almost reluctant anticipation, wilting under the weight of the gladiator’s optics. It was quite an appealing display. It called to Megatron, urged him to reach over and touch, to take again, and oblige that anticipation. But he knew if he did he wouldn’t stop at that, and he really would be a hypocrite. Starscream needed rest. Fragging him senseless would be counterproductive, but then… Starscream wasn’t particularly needed during the mining operation and the immediate future…

“You _know_ what,” the Seeker scowled.

Maybe it was good timing then at that moment, for whatever energy the medical cube had provided began to ebb away noticeably. Fatigue had worked its way back into his limbs as his helm started to bow, optics slowly closing as though the solvent spray was lulling him into recharge. It seemed he had sat inactive too long.

Megatron watched a few moments longer before he climbed to his pedes and turned off the spray, allowing the silence to settle. Starscream’s fans had ceased. Megatron reached down and hefted the Seeker back over his shoulder, earning himself a jarred grunt. He stepped them both under the air distributor for a few seconds before reentering his room. He paused, eyeing his berth. It probably wouldn’t be wise to recharge together, if only because he knew Starscream was volatile awake, and probably unconscious, too. But he was weak, and Megatron was confident that _he_ would online long before Starscream could plot against his slumbering frame.

With that, he set the offline Seeker down on the berth and hesitated. How did Seeker trines recharge together when their wings were so protrusive? His berth may be large, but Starscream’s wings were ridiculously long when they weren’t hitched up. Megatron resorted to adjusting the flyer onto his side, allowing his wings to hang off the edge of the berth so he could climb on between Seeker and wall. At least in this position he wouldn’t catch them. With a last chore, he unlatched his fusion canon and set it on the shelving unit the other side of Starscream.

Megatron paused a second, wondering just how he had arrived at this; this situation where he was sharing a berth with another. It wasn’t something he had ever envisioned, and the circumstances that brought them both here were less than conventional. But, as he propped himself onto an elbow and studied his charge, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was bound to happen at some point in their future. They butted helms more than any other Decepticon, he wasn’t really surprised his aggression had led him here. After all, how many times had he promised to terminate Starscream? How many times had he threated to destroy him for good? Too many. No other Decepticon had been given as many chances, and it didn’t take a genius for Megatron to speculate why he had bestowed them to Starscream. Something about the backstabbing Seeker had taken ahold deep in Megatron’s processor and would not let go. It worried him.

Deciding he would rather not mull on this strange relationship any further (he had pondered it long enough during his shifts), Megatron swept one last gaze across the dented, marred frame of his SIC and settled himself down for recharge, wedging a servo under his helm and the other across his chest. He sent the command for his lighting to cut out, and his room was plunged into darkness, with only the medical cubes to glow from the desk. He was attuned to the peace of his quarters, so it was a noticeable difference to hear the quiet, soothing sound of Starscream’s systems next to him. Strangely, it bothered him not. Within moments he had fallen into recharge, feeling satiated, satisfied and quite content…

If somewhat wary of it.


	2. 2

It wasn’t the cold that slowed his rebooting process the next Earth day, but it was certainly the absence of it that caught his attention first. Time after time of waking from recharge to expected room temperatures had programmed his mind to detect any fluctuations. As Megatron onlined from a pleasant, overload-induced doze, he first felt the faint warmth. And then the contact.

His optics shot open and he was already sending the command to activate his fusion canon – except it wasn’t on his arm. His spark jumped before his gaze darted to the weight on his abdomen. Recent events flooded back and he paused, calming.

One of Starscream’s arms was draped across his chassis, talons latched into his plating. The heat of his frame was little but enough for Megatron to perceive, especially through physical touch. At least his systems were warm enough to emanate from his plating. Aside from his intruding limb, he had not moved at all.

Megatron panned his optics along the length of Starscream’s form. The scratches and abrasions didn’t look completely different to the beating he used to inflict, except his could be worse. The deepest and most noticeable of the injuries were the identical holes shattered into the glass of Starscream’s cockpit. He’d pierced it deeper than he had initially thought, and was vaguely surprised it had not caused any pain; although, if it had, Starscream had been far too befuddled to register it.

Megatron put a servo on Starscream’s side and tilted him, pulling his frame to get a look at his back. Sure enough, eight similar punctures dotted his thin waist, two lines of four that looked deep and painful. Megatron observed them smugly. Though, it was lucky he had not damaged Starscream’s spinal struts.

He pushed him back onto his side and removed the arm over his torso, setting it down on the berth so he could climb off and to his energon dispenser. His tank was nearly empty, but he savored the generated cube leisurely, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet while he set his gaze on Starscream’s enticing frame, letting thoughts consume him. He belatedly checked his chronometer to discover he was actually a breem overdue for the start of the solar shift; he had neglected to set his internal alarm. But he was the Lord; he could be however late he wanted. Soundwave could run the entire army in his stead.

A little detail caught Megatron’s attention as he studied Starscream’s back. He stepped closer and nudged the smaller mech over again. There were two scratches on his thruster casing, too defined and neat to be random rock damage, two little marks perfectly parallel that looked much too similar to claw marks. Only the drones possessed two finger digits. Megatron traced them with his own, evaluating the way they tapered off. It seemed Primus had provided luck in the form of an eradicon.

Starscream’s wings flexed slowly, sliding up in their join ruts. Megatron removed his fingers and they gradually slid back to their lax positions. Curiously, he repeated the motion, and the appendages moved once again, rising up. Megatron was admittedly charmed by the reaction.

The silence was broken as Starscream mumbled something, but Megatron couldn’t understand; it was in Vosnian. He brushed his digits over the thruster again and trailed them deliberately along the Seeker’s spinal struts. The wings stretched higher, the top one wider, and another foreign murmur issued from the prone mech.

Megatron knew he should stop, the accused flyer was fascinating him in ways he didn’t feel comfortable with. But as he pressed a few stokes along Starscream’s spine, which began to respond, he felt the curl of heat prickle through his circuits. Apparently Seeker’s weren’t the only ones with voracious libidos.

The next mutters from Starscream weren’t in his home language. Megatron was quite sure he caught the word, “Skywarp,” among them. The undamaged wing flicked sharply, as though dislodging an irritant, and from the edges of Megatron’s vision he caught the flexing of fingers. He knew the moment Starscream had onlined his optics when his entire frame stiffened and his wings froze. He probably recognized the wall.

Megatron was glad for his own reflexes when he was almost slapped in the face by a wing. Starscream had shot up into a sitting position, twisting in the process. How one could be so limber so soon after recharge was actually quite impressive. Immediately the aches and pains of yesterday’s interface must have bombarded his sensor net as his face plates scrunched. One servo pressed against the holes on his cockpit while he directed his grimace at his welded wing.

“What the slag did you do to me?” He questioned croakily, bemused. He glanced at Megatron’s close proximity and his expression shifted. “What were you _doing_ to me?” 

Megatron stood against the berth and gazed down at him, energon cube still aloft. “That’s quite a bold tone to use against your Lord.”

Starscream stared, unsure how to address this new situation. He was not used to waking with a dangerous warmonger looming over him. “I think I’ve earned it, considering what you did to me,” he grumbled. Glancing down to inspect the pain on his cockpit, his eyeridges jumped. “Are those _thumbholes_?”

Megatron merely smirked, taking a sip of his energon.

As Starscream’s gaze shot up to glare at him, they darted to the room behind, and his frown changed. “Did… you recharge… with me?”

“I deemed it safe. You’re no threat like this.”

Starscream bristled, wings tightening in behind him. He detested being implied as harmless. “Like someone who was just pulled from a collapsed mine, is fresh off the medical berth and who had the spark _fragged_ out of them?”

Megatron did chuckle at that, a sound that surprised Starscream. “As I recall, you were setting much of the pace.”

Starscream’s lip plates fell open, his retort aborted. Humiliation drove his optics away as his memory banks supplied him with the recollection, and his wings angled inwards. Yes, definitely embarrassment. As the seconds ticked by, he looked lost on the huge berth, unable to meet his master’s gaze. Megatron could only imagine the chaotic thoughts running through his processor, the conflictions yet again, the arguing with himself, the subsequent denials and perhaps even admissions. If he was left alone long enough he might even fabricate some ridiculous claim that this was all a ruse, a tactical move for Megatron’s underhanded schemes. And he would convince himself of such, too. He’d be a paranoid mess.

Megatron disturbed the stillness of the room and moved to the desk, picking up a medical energon cube. He brought it over, under the suspicious watch of his Second, took off the lid and held it out to him. Starscream scowled at it.

“I don’t need that, I will heal just fine on my own,” he said mulishly.

“Take it,” Megatron ordered, and when it still didn’t change servos, added, “or I’ll force you to drink it.”

Starscream geared up to snap something defiant and defensive at him, but at a look from the gladiator he wisely swallowed his words and snatched the cube. Little droplets spilled onto the berth. He pulled yet another face before tipping back a large gulp.

“You were lucky to survive that cave-in,” Megatron changed the topic, tone mild as he backed up to his desk and leaned on it, watching his SIC attentively. “All those in your immediate proximity were crushed. All except one.” He paused, studying Starscream’s optics as they flickered to him.

The Seeker was quiet for a moment. “I recall being _pushed_ ,” he said, making a non-committal expression, as though it was nothing important.

Yes, that would explain the marks on his thruster. Megatron sipped his energon, and then paused, noticing a subtle shift in the Seeker’s demeanor. His wings gave the tiniest of shivers, and it wasn’t for a few ticks when Megatron realized what had caused it: Starscream’s recollection of the cave-in. He hid it remarkably well, but Megatron knew Seeker’s despised enclosed areas. They were all claustrophobic imbeciles. Starscream had managed his exceedingly well all these years, though; those that didn’t know him well would never have suspected. Still, Megatron couldn’t find anything unbiased to respond with, it was the idiot’s own fault he had gotten himself trapped.

A distant look of surprise came across Starscream’s faceplate. “I’m late for the solar shift,” he said, having checked his own chronometer. He started to edge off the berth, and Megatron had to hand it to him, he never slacked his duties to the Decepticon cause, even if it was a pretext to escape.

“You’re off duty until you have healed,” Megatron told him, standing straight and effectively stilling Starscream’s movements.

“What?” He looked shocked. “I can still perform my work, I am not an _invalid_.”

“Do not challenge my decision.”

“But –”

Megatron moved to the berth, and Starscream scrabbled back. He leaned down deliberately and planted his servos either side of the guarded Seeker. “But nothing, Starscream,” he growled moderately. “If you disobey and aggravate your injuries further, I will be very displeased.” He bore his optics into Starscream’s before lifting one of his servos and placing it in-between the Seeker’s side chest plate and protoform. Starscream gasped. Megatron assessed the temperature there. “You are still cool.”

The impression upon Starscream’s faceplate brought a warm upsurge through Megatron as they drew identical association from those words. Of course he would assume Megatron was implying the same solution as yesterday…

And pleasingly enough, Starscream didn’t move. They were close, very close, their silence suspended between them. Megatron could feel the edges of the Seeker’s EM field, stirred by his presence. It was not a question of could he, but _should_ he.

But Starscream was looking at him with an expression Megatron could only decipher as anticipation. He was _waiting_. There was no move to initiate, no prompt. The Seeker couldn’t seem to pass that bridge yet, because then he would have no argument and no defense to argue back. He could masquerade his wants with thinly veiled screens, and he would still be able to convince himself he hadn’t wanted it, that Megatron had chosen for him. Well… let him have that charade one more time; it would fail him very soon.

Megatron’s servo slid tenderly down Starscream’s lateral cable, swooping at his waist before returning upwards to ignite the receptors at his side. Their gazes were magnetized to one another, watching for reactions or rejections. Starscream didn’t move back, but there was tension in his frame, tautness to his limbs that disclosed his fighting instincts. Any moment now he might recede to his ingrained nature and bolt, Megatron’s spell undone. But as the gladiator’s servo ran seductively along the fine curves of the Seeker’s thigh, Starscream uttered a quiet whimper and shivered. Megatron pressed his luck and swirled his fingers underneath, teasingly close to the interface panel, provoking the legs into tensing. He massaged the thigh, stroking firm and calming lengths along the metal to instigate the tactile sensors that would ping back comforting data. A resigning lax unworked the tightness of Starscream’s frame and expression, and his optics closed. His thighs parted slightly. He was submitting himself to Megatron. 

A swell of triumph gripped the warlord’s spark and a tidal wave of lust consumed him. Had it really only taken three interfaces for the Seeker to relinquish his own resistance? To want his own desires more than his petty fickleness? Megatron was doubtful, but he was not disappointed; Starscream continued to surprise him. It was very likely there were factors at work influencing his submission, factors that would not be present the next time (for there would be many ‘next times’). And had he not been occupied with the frame beneath him, Megatron would certainly be deducing those factors. As it was, his focus was very firmly centered on the expression fluctuating at his practiced touches. His attentions awarded him a slow, tantalizing bow of the spine, and quite suddenly Megatron wanted _inside. Now._

Starscream’s optics shot open as Megatron gathered him in his arms and lifted himself onto the berth in his place –dimly aware of the energon cube tumbling to the floor. The Seeker was set back down, legs spread and bent lewdly over each of Megatron’s knees as he quickly steadied himself back on his servos, looking uncertainly at the mech before him. Megatron leveled a predatory stare, EM field burning with lust as he slowly pulled Starscream’s aft up onto his lap. A noise barely indistinguishable from a whisper pushed from the flyer’s vocalizer, stimulating the hunger within Megatron. It wasn’t enough, though. Effortlessly, he grinded the Seeker’s hips against his own panel, inflicting waves of pleasure through the mech’s slim frame. Starscream’s helm stretched back, his lip plates agape as a gasp fled free. His pelvic array responded hesitantly, wings drawing inwards as his wing-fins touched, reaching for the ceiling. Megatron worked his palm back along the slender waist, avoiding the injuries he had previously issued to scrape delicately at the Seeker’s spinal struts. Starscream arched, his hips consequently grinding harder and accompanied by a delightful groan.

Megatron’s fans activated as a rush of curling heat stormed his circuits. His spike was already stirring behind his interface panel, and if not for his intemperance he would have been somewhat ashamed of his eagerness. He raked his claws lightly up the plane of Starscream’s uninjured wing, eliciting a poorly restrained whine of pleasure. Almost as soon as he trailed his sharp fingertips back down, Starscream’s fans whirred to life. Satisfied, Megatron sought out a cluster of highly sensitive seams along the wing joint and brought out another moan from the jet’s vocalizer – before abandoning those erogenous zones altogether and redirecting his attentions to the main prize. Planting a servo on Starscream’s codpiece, he guided his thumb to the closed panel below and repeatedly brushed across it, following the roll of restless hips.

“Ahh…”

Megatron’s fans increased, his fire was raging away. He might worry later why he derived so much pleasure from stimulating _Starscream’s_ pleasure, but for now he could only revel in the thick, hazy atmosphere they had generated. The Seeker’s EM field was almost tangible as it enveloped him, and Megatron could quite truthfully admit he had never enjoyed anything as intoxicating and potentially hazardous to his composure. He had not foreseen the effects their copulation would have upon him, and he expected he wasn’t the only affected party. He couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t entirely his own doing; he did, in fact, suspect Starscream may be playing more than an unwitting part, somehow the originator of a unique effect. Something that, perhaps, Seeker’s naturally emit..?

Quite suddenly Starscream’s valve panel was no longer there and Megatron’s thumb pressed against the small, slick aperture, even as the Seeker’s hips lurched in response. The gladiator smirked with delight; Starscream was still so receptive, even after their vigorous interface the previous cycle. But he would have to take care; neither of them might realize there could be tearing. No matter how much preparation Megatron gave, his size would always present that likely risk, and in their code-addled states they wouldn’t noticed. As he swirled his thumb across the delicate mesh, he watched Starscream’s expression for any sign of pain, indicators he was infinitely familiar with. 

With nothing yet to slow him of his initial touches, he advanced, sliding his middle digit into the small channel. Starscream gave a hitched groan, knees pressing into Megatron’s sides as he tilted his hips to give his leader better access. Pleased, the gladiator curled his free servo along the contours of his Second’s lithe frame, concentrating on his exploration of Starscream’s internal nodes. He paid careful attention to the reactions he provoked from each, until he zeroed in on an extremely sensitive spot, evidenced by the abrupt squeal. A faint grin crossed Megatron’s scared lip plates and he laid siege to the node without mercy.

Starscream’s body writhed. Trains of strenuous groans broke from his vocalizer as his frame twisted to alleviate the intensity, his fans immediately pitching to their high modes. Megatron gripped the Seeker, preventing his escape as he continued his relentless assault, fingering the node with rapid, short rubs.

“Megatron!” Starscream sobbed, completely undone. His hips jerked uncontrollably and he fell onto his elbows, unable to support himself any higher. Almost as soon as, the talons of his right servo fastened onto the warlord’s knee as though it was a lifeline. His wings beat the air behind him in fitful spasms. “Nnnhaaaahhh – aaah!”

Megatron’s wonderfully cruel actions faltered under a wave of incapacitating heat. His spike _hurt_ behind its confines, and his lust was ravenous from Starscream’s erotic display. He ceased his attack on the abused node and circled the valve for others, bestowing some quick attentions on them before he felt his pressure had escalated far enough. He wanted in. And if the rolling pulses of Starscream’s were any indicator, he wanted more, too. He flexed his digits, stretching the channel in preparation, an endeavor which took less time than before, due to his well-worked efforts the previous cycle. Starscream’s calipers had not fully reset yet.

The berth room was interspaced by the Seeker’s ensuing moans and the combined whirring of their fans as Megatron worked diligently to loosen the smaller mech. Every line of his being was urging him to hurry, but that only encouraged him to apply more exertion in his task, if only to deny his own body.

At a wide scissor motion, a whine met his audials that was tinged with something other than pleasure. Megatron watched closely, but as he continued Starscream didn’t make any indication to stop. Mindfully, Megatron completed his task until he was certain the small valve could take him.

His spike was out and pressurized before he was aware he had released it. A short-lived burst of relief washed through his circuits. Starscream’s face rose to watch down the length of his body, optics on his master’s engorged length. A sharp flare of desire lashed at Megatron’s EM field, and on the edges he detected a tiny trace of anxiousness. A blot of arrogance surfaced in recognition; his size still intimidated Starscream. 

Deliberately, he took his coated fingers and distributed the lubricant across his aching spike slowly, smearing his own beads of pre-discharge as his SIC stared, enthralled. A fresh swell of arousal buckled Megatron’s control and he finished slicking himself in favor of positioning the Seeker’s hips, and shifting onto his knees. He guided himself to the waiting valve, glancing at the expression below him before carefully pushing in. His own thighs trembled beneath him with restraint as incredible tightness engulfed him. He sensed he might not last very long this time, as pressure began to form alarmingly fast within his internals. He blamed Starscream and his orgasmic writhing. Megatron slid in further.

Starscream’s bowed helm came up sharply, and the first evidence of pain etched into his pinched brow. Megatron caught his optics, stilling his actions (and using every last iota of control), but the Seeker stared expectantly, as though waiting for the warlord to hilt him. Soreness be damned. Megatron obliged, burying his large girth until their platings met, and he paused to gather his waning control. The sound of Starscream’s shuddery gasps didn’t help.

When he was ready, Megatron rocked his hips, their interface panels barely parting. A quiet grunt escaped his partner, and the servo currently embedded in his knee retreated back to its original position, steadying the rocking frame as a shallow pace began. Megatron felt charge jump between their metals as they started to create a blissful friction, and very soon the initial pain on Starscream’s faceplate was replaced by a look of pleasure. Sweet whimpers were pushed from his intake with every motion, increasing the overcharge thrumming through Megatron’s being. He planted a palm at the Seeker’s side and raised himself more onto his knees, gripping Starscream’s hips as he upped his pace. With better leverage, he began thrusting in earnest, feeling the tightness around him welcome his length, accept his intrusion. Starscream’s dotted, sharp moans rose above their fans as the sensory nodes within him lit up. His attempts to remain upright and off his injured wing became increasingly difficult as Megatron began to slam into him. Talons scrabbled for support against Megatron’s chassis as they rocked vigorously on the berth, but he accomplished nothing other than scoring claw marks into the massive chest.

Megatron wound his free arm round the Seeker’s jumping waist. “Put your arms around me,” he rumbled through his own straining intake.

Almost without hesitation Starscream’s long arms encircled Megatron’s neck. Had the warlord been more lucid he might have recognized it for the phenomenon it was – Starscream obeying orders. Indeed he would have mused on this had the Seeker’s legs not wrapped around his middle, had he not lifted himself from the slab and pressed his heated chassis against Megatron’s while he clung to the gladiator’s bucking frame. Bolt after bolt of pleasure wracked Megatron’s circuits as he tightened his support of the thin flyer, and drove his spike into his gasping body. Starscream’s wings bounced in front of his optics as he attempted to bury his faceplate in the recess of his master’s collar plate. Tactile sensors detected the hot outtake of air from his facial fans.

“Nnhh!”

Megatron braced his knees and ploughed his hips back and forth, the claws on his supporting servo digging marks into his berth. With his other, he pushed against Starscream’s bobbing aft, angling it before plunging in _deep_.

“AAHH!” Starscream’s helm flung back as his arms constricted, lip plates wide open.

Megatron very nearly blew. Starscream tightened around him, squeezing his spike almost to the point of pain. Heavenly, wonderful pain. He had certainly struck something amazing, and he was certainly going to strike it again. Securing Starscream’s pelvic position, he drew out unhurriedly – and _slammed_ his hips into the yielding body.

Starscream shrieked so loudly his vocalizer malfunctioned, bordering on the edges of deactivation. His frame shuddered so hard the vibrations passed through to Megatron’s plating, amplifying the fire searing his lines. Primus, it was beyond incredible. He struggled to control his speeding crescendo, but his system was following its own directive, and no processor power would divert it. With renewed fervor, he rut into Starscream ruthlessly, knocking all manner of wanton, desperate cries from his worn vocalizer. He had never thought he would thrive so vehemently on the jet’s noises. Each sound converted into electrical pulses, feeding his actuators, driving his momentum. Starscream was quite literally fueling Megatron’s speed.

He could have easily maintained their frantic humping for a few minutes yet, had the Seeker not started _clenching_. A loud grunt sprung from Megatron’s vocalizer as his overwhelmed sensor net exploded. Starscream’s hips canted with every thrust, his valve pressing around Megatron’s spike rhythmically, wringing what modicum of composure he had left. He thrust once, twice, and pounded the last one home before he embedded himself as deep as possible and shuddered, gripping Starscream’s shaking frame tightly as he overloaded inside. His ejection was the catalyst for Starscream’s, who’s raw vocalizer blared out one last scream of ecstasy as he stiffened and came. The rush of hot fluid spilling around their joining was not lost on Megatron, even in his incoherent stupor.

The force of release left them immobile and dazed. Awareness crept back to Megatron slowly, and with it all his senses. The heat blasting from Starscream’s fans against his collar was strikingly hot, sending breezes across his inner plating and into his protoform. The sensation was not unwelcome. 

His optics onlined in time to watch two shaking wings resetting their position on the Seeker’s back. Megatron lowered his clinging SIC onto the berth, ignoring the wobble his arm gave, and unwound his other from the slim frame. Starscream drew his helm back from the gladiator’s neck and let it rest on the slab, his optics slowly refocusing. They stared at one another for a silent, unreadable second, permitting themselves a rare moment of shared serenity as feelings of satisfaction coursed through them. When Megatron lifted himself up, Starscream’s optics closed against the little sensations still transmitting from spike to valve. Megatron watched him as he unclasped the flyer’s long legs from around him, before turning his attention to his stained pelvic plates. He slid his softening length from the Seeker, sinfully pleased by the amount of transfluid running onto the berth. It stirred his ebbing fires. Without thinking, he knelt back over the prone mech and ran a servo along his frame tenderly, feeling out the newest injuries he had engraved, studying his handiwork and the very evidence of his lost restraint.

Starscream froze beneath him, watching his actions with more curiousness than incredulousness. His fans whirred away, still overworking, but his processor was clear and his systems were much more efficient than last cycle. Perhaps fragging some warmth into him had helped his recovery after all.

Megatron ceased his strokes, drawing his servo away. What was urging this need to touch Starscream? Was it merely the overload still working its magic? The codes pumping post-coital instincts into his neural net? He sincerely hoped not, he was no slave to base coding, the thought repulsed him. 

“Why?”

Megatron was surprised by the sudden question, turning his optics down on those of his Second. He inclined his helm in query.

“W-th me… This…” Starscream elaborated brokenly, his words fractured between intermittent static. “Why a-- of a s--den?”

Megatron stared at him, choosing words from a vocabulary still reassembling. “Why indeed,” was all he replied.

His vagueness brought a confused angle to Starscream’s brow ridges, but before he could push the answer, Megatron turned his helm to the side purposefully.

“Soundwave,” he addressed his incoming comm, looking off into the opposite wall. A few seconds passed. “Very good, I will be on the bridge soon... Starscream is relieved of duty until he had healed, he will not be coordinating the searching parties. See to it that they are utilized in the mining efforts.”

Beneath him Starscream prickled, mouth open with the intent to argue – but Megatron silenced him with a look.

“Excellent, Soundwave. Carry on.” He ended the communication, instigating Starscream’s rant.

“My en—gon -eekers a— not _miners!_ ”

“They are a workforce,” Megatron countered calmly. “They will be what I want them to be.”

Something flashed across Starscream’s optics and Megatron saw his trademark temper battling above the overload coding. “Like _I_ am wh— you w—t me to b-? A pl—sure mech –en it _suits_ you?”

To his own surprise, Megatron felt delightfully entertained by Starscream’s presumption, how easy it was for his suspicion to rear its metaphorical helm. “Starscream, of one thing I am sure,” he began, his words light with amusement, a smirk at his lip plates. “You will never be what I want you to be.” Before Starscream could hoard the immense insults and release them in fits of rage, Megatron loomed over him on servos and knees. “And _that_ is _**why**_ …”

Starscream gaped angrily at him, baffled. Before he could decipher those words, Megatron drew back, giving Starscream’s thoroughly abused valve a teasing flick with one of his fingers. The Seeker jerked as Megatron climbed from his berth. He managed two steps towards his wash rack before the broken voice came at him again.

“Is thi- to b- the _norm_?” He demanded, vexed. “Frag m- into the slab a—th-- just leave me t- recov-- on your b--th?”

Megatron turned around. “Would you rather I carry you through the Nemesis to your own quarters, a display for all to witness?”

“H-rdly!” Starscream snapped.

“Then, pray tell, what would you _suggest_?” Megatron enunciated.

“I nee- to rinse your _stench_ -rom -- frame, therefo-- _I_ should be entitled t- your wash ra--- first.”

The Seeker’s pretention was not among his redeeming quality, but it was one of his defining ones. Megatron had long since grown used to it. Perhaps that and the coding combined gave him the ability to bypass the usual annoyance that it provoked. Megatron stepped back to the berth.

“What is to stop us both using the wash rack _together_?” He smirked. He reached out and grabbed the jet’s wrist, pulling the stuttering, wide-optic’ed Seeker down to his unsteady pedes. Starscream pulled against him, torn between glaring daggers at his intention and frowning in uncertainty. Megatron adopted little chivalry and dragged him away from his hold on the berth, steadying him when he stumbled.

“Don’- you da--- thin- of doin- anyth--- else to me!” Starscream growled, leaning back against Megatron’s momentum as they entered his personal wash rack. His face twitched in soreness as he went.

“I am merely extending the _courtesy_ I previously _neglected_ ,” the gladiator mocked, a sly grin at his lip plates. He turned on the faucets and he was dowsed in solvent. Megatron shifted Starscream bodily to stand under it. “You seem so unimpressed with my lack of hospitality,” he continued satirically, “then allow me to rectify this – by letting me wash you _fully_.”

Starscream gaped at the look of deviousness on his master’s faceplate, his words scattering through his frame in the form of inadvertent arousal. He edged back against the wall, wings lowered, but Megatron’s servos pulled him back under the spray easily, immediately running freely over his sheening metals. His words deserted him when those wicked palms began to work circular motions into his side plates – his entire _motor_ functions deserted him. Megatron’s quick ministrations were deftly doing away with his fight-or-flight response, kneading undeniably good sensations into his sore frame. 

Until they delved straight to his interface panel. Starscream gasped and jolted, gripping Megatron’s arms for support as fingers very expertly swiped at his open valve cover, working away the residue of their coupling. The rubs were firm, nudging Starscream’s frame about even as he stood there and choked on his shameful whimpers, digging his talons into the warlord’s armor to hold himself upright. Megatron’s treatment was rough, palming around delicate mesh without the gentleness of before, but what mortified Starscream was his rapidly swelling enjoyment. He could feel the heat stirring, feel his valve beginning to lubricate once again, despite the amount of transfluid still swilling around.

And then the fingers were inside him. Starscream yelped under the stream of solvent, wings jumping high as Megatron’s fingers dug carefully at his valve wall, coaxing his own essence out, grazing at the Seeker’s inner walls to draw globules of release down. Starscream was nearly sobbing once again. His helm fell against Megatron’s huge chassis as his frame wracked with spasms of pleasure, unable to control himself. His wings rose and fell in sharp, wide sweeps, mimicking the motions of the gladiator’s fingers. He could feel trickles of release exit him, smell the solutions Megatron was massaging into him, cleaning him with, and his fans roared to life. The capacity to think had been reduced to just a couple of thoughts: How good Megatron was with his digits, and how redundant his efforts were now Starscream was lubricating – _thanks_ to his actions.

A wavering moan departed from the Seeker’s malfunctioning vocalizer, its vibrations quivering along Megatron’s chest. He quelled his own arousal as he frisked deeper, touching those explosive nodes he knew were highly sensitive. He fondled them with the tip of his digit.

Starscream screeched in cruel delight, lurching into Megatron. His own legs – freshly welded as they were –failed him, leaving Megatron to support him. He felt a swell of domineering pleasure at the state he had thrown his Second in. But he didn’t dawdle; scraping gently at the soft, _very_ warm lining of the valve, he soothed his transfluid and lubricant alike from the depths, drawing them out against the twitching cadence of Starscream’s hips. He rinsed his fingers in the pour of solvent before sliding back inside for a thorough search, compensating for the shuddering frame. Feeling how close his SIC was to his second overload, he pushed to those nodes and skimmed across them repeatedly with rapid niggles.

Starscream’s body convulsed and a static scream split from his lip plates. Warmth enveloped Megatron’s finger as a flood of the jet’s own transfluid sluiced from his valve. Most of it joined the flow of the shower, but Megatron had to flick away what had pooled into his palm. He hadn’t realized his own fans had activated at some point until Starscream’s whimpers faded from their audials. He could feel distinct, satiated tremors still dissipating through his slim frame as it leaned on him. Allowing a few seconds rest, he went about finishing his job, slower this time, running solutions over Starscream’s reinstated mess. He cleaned off the metal and then ran sudsy solution along the insides of the Seeker’s stained thighs. He received no resistance.

“I take it you are pleased with this deviation in routine,” Megatron rumbled with a tiny smirk, adjusting his grip on the flyer’s limp form. He held his own lust back with considerable restraint. Another overload for him might affect his duties throughout the shift.

Starscream could utter nothing but a fragmented murmur. “Sh— up…”

A chuckle floated from Megatron’s vocalizer, the vibrations transmitting through them both. “Your stamina is quite impressive,” he said mockingly as he dug carefully into the plating on Starscream’s inner thigh, removing all traces of their debauchery as the legs twitched sensitively. “You originally had me believe you could barely survive our _first_ session.” 

“ _Anyone_ wou— be subdued –neath th- barbarous _humpin-_ of – ur prim-tive needs,” Starscream snipped groggily, twisting in reaction to the cleaning servos. “Y—ambushed me knowin- I w— und— nouri—ed.”

“If this is the result,” Megatron said throatily, lowering his helm closer to Starscream’s audials. “Perhaps I should ensure you are well refueled next time…”

Starscream froze. Next time? Before he could explode at the crude assumption Megatron shoved him relatively gently (for him) to the wall, which he gripped instead to stay on his pedes as the warlord gave his own metal a quick wash. 

“You dare assum- tha- I would _want_ – interf-ce with you ag—n?”

Megatron didn’t even look at him. “We both benefit from the release,” he reasoned. “It works out our aggression to each other, rids us of superfluous charge and fortifies our processing power.” He slid a glance from under the solvent spray. “And there is no denying the gratification.” He smirked. “We _both_ enjoy it.”

“Y-u’re forget—g the inevitable inj-ries you infli— upon -e,” Starscream hissed, lacking his usual bite. He winced at his sore vocalizer.

“Knockout assured me that Seekers have exceptionally fast healing speeds, and are highly adaptive,” the gladiator disclosed, unable to curb the smirk at his plates, catching the absolute mortification on Starscream’s expression. “You are more capable of taking me than perhaps anyone else on this warship.”

“S- I am m—rly the _practical_ ch—ce?!”

Megatron had to suppress a laugh, although it fought from his processor as a bitten off chuckle. “Far from it, Starscream.”

“And wh— is _th—_ supposed – mean?”

Megatron turned off the shower facets and stepped before the Seeker’s shorter frame. “It means, despite your pride and your boastful shows of superiority, you cannot see beyond your twisted little processor. You are, have always been, blind to anything but your own little world.”

A change in the Seeker’s expression, a strange frown, caught Megatron’s attention, and the lack of retort surprised him. His words had made Starscream pause. Well, he wasn’t going to waste the silence; Megatron pulled him into the flow of the air distributor and stood still as the solvent across their metals fled from the force. He watched Starscream’s wings perk at the air current, flexing at angles to catch the drafts. Something warm seeped through Megatron’s spark. For some reason he had started to find such trivial quirks attractive.

Their little argument seemed to have been put on hold. A look of internal contemplation had crossed Starscream’s faceplate. He was, again, leaning on the larger mech, probably unaware he was doing so. His overload-induced shaking had ceased but even so, as Megatron ended the air flow, he found himself supporting the Seeker into his room. Megatron gestured to the door.

“There is your exit, if you so wish to leave.”

Starscream shot a sour glare at him and hobbled back over to the berth. His limp had grown a little more noticeable, but considering what his body had gone through in the past couple of cycles, it was expected. As he was climbing onto the slab, Megatron swept his optics across the Seeker’s frame, noting all the marks he had wreaked over their time together. Even on his wings, though slight as they might be. They would probably interfere with his flight sensors if he didn’t get them checked before an outing. There was also the matter of stress he had put on the Seeker’s major injuries, the welds that should have been settling. His wing seemed fine, but Starscream had been using his pedes during their ‘carnal dances’ and it would be wise to have them checked out.

“You -eave, I’m st—ing until I ca- walk withou- showcasing -y defilement.”

“Even with your ‘super’ repairing nanites, that will be some time.” Megatron moved to his desk and picked up a medical grade energon cube. Starscream sneered at it. “Perhaps I should send Knockout to fix you up,” he teased. His comment was met with a scoff of indignation. “Then you are to report to _him_ within the cycle.” He approached the berth as he took the lid off the cube and held it out. “Unless you would like _me_ to attend those scars…”

The look he received was almost comical, and also a very clear ‘not on your spark, you rusted slagger’. Starscream attempted to ignore the cube until Megatron thrust it in his face, forcing him to grab it.

“Soundwave informed me that the mining operation will be completed in two solar cycles,” Megatron said, optics fixed on his Second, compelling him to drink with the power of his weighted stare. “I _would_ need you to resume your duties after we have departed this infernal location, but considering your recovery period, I must send your energon seekers out alone until you can join and coordinate them again.”

“I -ill be gl— to depart fr— the radius -f –ur depravity,” Starscream muttered. 

Megatron looked down on him in amusement. “Drink that energon,” he ordered, turning to his door as it opened. He stopped before the threshold and cast a glance back. “And if it does revive your yen as I suspect it did before, you know where to find me.”

He stepped out the room as one of his own datapads hurtled towards him. When the door closed behind, he grinned.

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends the series 'story', but there are three more parts, set back after each interface, from Starscream's perspective, and how he deals with the new turn of events.


End file.
